


On the Highway to Hell, Even a Drunk Skunk Is Right Twice a Day

by sarcasm_for_free



Category: Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Adoption, Drunk Moxxie (Helluva Boss), Drunken Flirting, Episode: s01e03 Spring Broken, F/M, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Humor, In Vino Veritas, Making Up, Moxxie is the well-meaning but annoying uncle, Moxxie loves Millie, Parent Blitzo (Helluva Boss), Post-Episode: s01e03 Spring Broken, Road Trips, Swearing, it’s just a trip home but one that feels like forever for everyone but Moxxie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29177856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasm_for_free/pseuds/sarcasm_for_free
Summary: Completely sloshed, Moxxie has a little talk with Loona while Blitzo and Millie get him waffles.(A car trip with an intoxicated Moxxie is a fucking experience.)
Relationships: Blitzo & Loona (Helluva Boss), Millie/Moxxie (Helluva Boss), Moxxie & Loona (Helluva Boss)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 115





	On the Highway to Hell, Even a Drunk Skunk Is Right Twice a Day

**Author's Note:**

> I was already working on a totally different fic, but then there was suddenly episode 3 and drunk Moxxie stole my heart, okay?! He’s a gift and we don’t deserve him.

“Mind your fucking head, we’re on the highway!” Blitzo screamed over his shoulder.

Moxxie’s head was hanging out the back window, his tongue and hair flapping in the wind while he drunkenly whooped. “Wooooo! Breezy!”

Petting his shoulder, Millie sent Blitzo an admonishing glare. “He needs fresh air. It will help him sober up.”

“He can suck as much free fucking air as he wants when he’s at home. Now don’t come wailing at me if your husband loses his head in traffic.”

No speed limits in hell and there were a fuckload of trucks on the streets today. Driving everyone home had never taken so much time and no one had thought about what that meant for this little trip. But who could have foreseen drunk as a skunk, sorry, possum, Moxxie?

Only when an especially big truck, honking in the rhythm of Verosika’s newest hit single, came too close, driving in the other direction and almost taking Moxxie’s horns with it on its way past, did Millie relent.

“Honey, come in,” she cooed and tried to pull him to her side.

Squealing, he resisted and stuck his head just farther outside, so, tried and true wife that she was, she sighed sadly, tickling his neck with a claw. “I’m cold, and so alone back here.”

Immediately, Moxxie hurled his body completely inside the van and struggled in vain to get his jacket off. Ever the gallant gentleman, he attempted to give it to Millie while still wearing one sleeve, the front all buttoned up. He waved the sleeve he’d peeled off with the help of his freed arm at his wife. “No sniffles for my honey! Heeeere,” he crowed, slapping a totally unprepared Millie in the face with it.

“Thank you, sweetie.” She started to open the buttons, one after another, all the while snickering at a dopily smiling Moxxie sending her air kisses.

Before she’d slipped the last one through the hole, Moxxie was gripping the lapels and ripped them open with a cry of, “It’s so hot!” Ah, the alcohol-induced overheating was starting to set in.

In the rear mirror, Loona could see him wrap the jacket around Millie. Draping it over her shoulders, her arms not through the holes, he tied the sleeves around her, turning her into an impish burrito. Or into an imp in a straightjacket.

At least he’d not been naked under there. Loona wasn’t sure how she would have gone on living, knowing how Moxxie’s spindly little torso looked au naturel. In his shirtsleeves, he was as covered as Loona’s eyes could take, thank fuck.

“I’m hot and you are cold,” Moxxie sang softly to his wife. “We’re perfect,” he purred, “for each other.”

Burrito-Millie pecked his cheek, making him melt into the upholstery. “We are, baby,” she said and pried the sloppily tied sleeves from their knot, freeing herself.

“Luv you,” Moxxie droned on, and Loona cringed.

She stole a glance at Blitzo on the driver’s seat. This time, he hadn’t turned on the music, which resulted in them sitting in awkward silence in the front while the back seat was fucking full of lovey-dovey shit, and that told her all she needed to know.

A back seat full of love – a loveless front row. Seemed about right.

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, glad to have shucked her human disguise. Glad, not happy. Happy indicated that shit was good and that was definitely not the case. At least she didn’t feel like it was. Blitzo was content enough letting sleeping lions fucking lie. Glossing over the nasty shit she said was part and parcel of their relationship. She wasn’t even sure if he remembered the stuff she told him back at the beach. It was, like, blip, one second storm clouds and then, blip, sunshine and fucking rainbows.

She’d torn Blitzo a new asshole for the chance to flirt with a guy who’d had a girlfriend all along. Like she was some little teenage shit head totally in the throes of puberty. Which she _wasn’t_ , okay? That was the whole point of her outburst. She was a big girl and Blitzo had been too late to really get a ticket to the hormonal teenager show. She was mature as hell. Just didn’t feel like that right now.

She was about to turn the radio on to fill the car with some sound that wasn’t puke-worthy confessions of love when a hand smashed against her nose in an attempt to point out the window on her side.

“THEY HAVE WAFFLES!” Moxxie draped himself over her backrest and waved his arm harder, the sheer volume making Blitzo swerve the car too far to the left and therefore sending a motorbike into a bush on the roadside. The motherfucker waved from the shrub, so his wounds couldn’t be too severe, which made the whole thing just more disappointing.

“The fuck, Moxxie! Millie, keep your husband under control!” Blitzo bellowed, the van now back in line.

Loona grabbed Moxxie’s hand, shoving it away from her face, but that didn’t stop the boozer from keeping on whining.

“Waffles, waffles, waffles!” he chanted, wiggling in place.

Millie could only do so much; holding him back was a bust from the moment he’d spied the shabby gas station and its gigantic billboard declaring it the best stop for food on highway 666. The chef’s speciality – freaking waffles.

Seeing that their van wasn’t pulling over, Moxxie drooped like a wilted flower. He mumbled, only audible thanks to the radio being turned off, “Munchies,” his bottom lip wobbling.

Millie hadn’t even opened her mouth before Blitzo took a sharp turn that threw all of them to one side of the car.

“Fucking fine! You’ll get your stupid waffles!” He drove them right up to the gas station’s parking lot and hit the brakes. “Fucking gas station waffles. What’s the next course, gas station sushi with salmonellae on the side?”

Upon seeing where they had stopped, Moxxie jumped up and down in his seat, scratching the tips of his horns over the ceiling. “Yay!”

Rounding on him, Blitzo pointed his claw at that stupid, beaming face. “You get your waffles, but we bring them to you. You stay right here. I’m not hauling your ass out of there if you start fucking puking.” He ripped the door on his side open. “Millie, you come with me, you know what shit your hubby eats. Loona, you watch the living beer bottle,” he commanded.

Alone with the drunk in the back, Loona watched Blitzo and Millie walk into the gas station’s shop slash restaurant.

Well, there was her answer. Blitzo was obviously still angry at her.

She kicked her heels against the dashboard and dropped her head back with a groan.

“Why you sad?” came from her left, where Moxxie had once again – great – pushed himself over the front row. Gliding down the back rest like he was slimy putty and flopping onto his back on the seat, he stared up at her with glassy eyes the size of dinner plates.

She growled. “I’m not fucking sad.”

Moxxie hummed, his eyelids drooping, and he opened his big fat mouth, ready to harass her some more. She should just chuck him out of here. Bind him with a leash to the station’s toilets. Finders, keepers. He might get taken on by a nice trucker named Bitchwrecker.

She was not sad, fucking no.

Moxxie poked her side in a bid to get her attention. His neck had a crick in it after contorting it to get a better look at her scowling face.

“Is it because you were nasty to Blitzo?” He drew the _naaaaaeeeesty_ out until he sounded like a ghoul.

She was gearing up to make her toilet plan come true, but he just babbled on.

“Because that was mean. So, so, so mean.” He whimpered as his head hit the stick shift.

Her lip curled in a snarl. “He was annoying.” She huffed. “And he embarrassed me.” The latter had, honestly, been the worse of the two.

“That’s what dads do,” Moxxie drawled, heaving himself up on his elbows and, finding no ground with them, dropping back down.

Loona was too stumped to keep Moxxie, prone on his back, from reaching up with one twiggy arm to press his foreclaw to her nose.

“Boop.”

The fucking nerve, the fucking…His head had just rolled to the side, hitting her knee.

Irritated, she shoved it off her leg, something that led to his head rolling to the other side, where it ended up squashed into the seat padding.

At the very least, he couldn’t look at her anymore. Drunk Moxxie was fifty percent more useless than regular Moxxie. And he was just as wrong about everything.

“He was talking shit, anyway,” she said, like the soused munchkin could hear her.

His limp tail was lying on the sticky floor but gave a short twitch at her words. His voice was muffled as he hiccupped into the seat. “He is a worrs…worry wasp…wasp?...worry-wart. You are his baby.” At the last word, his head rolled back to face her, tongue peeking out. He looked like a fucking cat. Blep, or whatever that cutesy shit was called.

She snorted, scornful as all hell.

He took it as a sign of _go on, please tell me more_.

“When he adopted you, he was sooo gooey.” He smacked his lips and blinked too much to be normal. “He called me to blah blah blah ‘bout how perfect you are.”

After an ear-splitting burp that had the side effect of burning her oversensitive nostrils with an acrid smell akin to a full septic tank, he waved his hand around, attempting to grab her snout for a squish. “He loved you from the start,” Moxxie grinned, totally out of it. Twenty minutes max and he would crash hardcore. His alc high wouldn’t last for much longer. After the munchies came the sleep-fest.

“He’s not even my real dad,” Loona said to get the last word in.

“But he’s the one that’s here,” Moxxie said and reached out to absentmindedly pet the fur on her upper arm.

Her brows knitted, she stared through the front shield and felt his hand drop to the seat.

He wasn’t wrong.

Fucking damnit.

She _was_ behaving like an ungrateful little wretch in the middle of puberty.

But it seemed like the right time to tell Blitzo she was sorry had come and gone and now it would just become a precedential case. Said once, a ‘sorry’ by her would get brought up for fucking forever at every chance.

That moment, through the restaurant’s entrance, Blitzo and Millie wandered out, their arms laden up with boxes of food and other useless shit.

When the car doors slid open, Blitzo grumbled and threw Moxxie with both hands backwards over the seat into the back row, right into the waiting arms of his wife.

“You been good, sweetie? I have your waffles here!”

Wakey, wakey. Moxxie surged up and grabbed the styrofoam container out of Millie’s hand, ripping it open to stuff his face with lukewarm waffles slathered in vanilla sauce. Go figure, he was a vanilla guy. The upside was that the sweetness neutralized the lingering stink of his previous belch.

“I wuv you,” he cooed at Millie through a mouthful of doughy mush.

Back to the loving shit.

Loona was still staring at the disgusting display when something rectangular hit her lap. Confused, she turned her head to see Blitzo settle in, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes.

“They had that bubblegum you like so much,” he told her and the door clicked shut.

The little package in her hand had black font declaring it arsenic and watermelon flavored.

It really was her favorite.

She understood the hidden meaning alright, she just didn’t know how to reply without going the route of remorse, which would sound insincere at this point.

Back on the road, more and more trucks were driving by.

“Who is Aki…so…rev?” mumbled Moxxie, his face squashed upside down against the finally rolled up back window, sauce smeared over his lips and now the glass, at which Millie dabbed with a tissue. He eyed the ad banner on one of the incoming trucks declaring it “Time for a Mayday Parade!” with the picture of the pop star under it. The weirdo was just fine reading letters standing on their head but did not have the soberness to understand that he had to start reading them from the other side. “Akisorev?”

From the corner of her eye, Loona peered at Blitzo, and smiled, uncertain and lop-sided. “Just some bitch without a parking spot.”

Blitzo slanted her a look from behind dark glasses, his smile turning fucking megawatt.

Message received.

**Author's Note:**

> Which sadly didn’t save anyone from Moxxie projectile vomiting vanilla sauce five minutes later ;P


End file.
